The Best Christmas Present Ever
by bammi1
Summary: Bobby's first Christmas without his Dad


I do not own any of these characters; they are the property of Dick Wolf.

Summary: Bobby's first Christmas without his Dad

The Best Christmas Present Ever

It was just a few days before Christmas and Bobby Goren, eleven years old, and his buddy, Lewis Martin, stood outside the department store window, staring in awe at the brand new ready-for-Christmas bicycles.

"There it is, Bobby!" Lewis said excitedly, pointing to a shiny red and silver bike, decorated with a big red bow. "I told you! Look at her, isn't she a beauty?"

"Sure is," Bobby said. "Are you getting one?"

Lewis's eyes were sparkling. "Mom keeps saying 'no', but she always says that. I know I'm getting it!" Then, in a covert tone, he confided, "I heard Mom and Dad talking about it."

Bobby was excited, too—for a minute. Then his smile faded. He was happy for Lewis, but couldn't help it, he was jealous. He knew he'd never have a bike like that now that Dad was gone—not that there was much of a chance then, either-- but at least then he could hope.

"What's wrong, Bobby?" Lewis asked.

Bobby's eyes dropped. "Nothing," he said, looking away. He felt bad, being jealous of his best friend. Worst of all, like a slap in the face, it brought back the fact that Dad had left, just left them all, Mom, Joe, and him. It was nearly four months now, and it was a hurt so bad Bobby wasn't sure he could stand it, the pain never left. Every once in a while there would be a momentary distraction, like the bike, but somehow the pain always came right back.

All at once Lewis understood. This would be Bobby's first Christmas without his dad, and Bobby was not taking it well at all.

"Hey, Buddy, it'll be okay," Lewis told him consolingly, putting his arm around Bobby's shoulders.

Bobby, the tears welling up in his eyes, couldn't look at him. "No, it won't. It'll never be okay."

Lewis felt kind of bad, although sometimes he didn't understand Bobby. His dad had never treated Bobby right. When his dad was drunk, a lot of times he'd beat or hurt Bobby, and when he wasn't drunk he totally ignored him. But he was still Bobby's dad, and Bobby loved him. Lewis wished he could do something to help his friend, but this was the one thing that couldn't be helped.

"Wanna go back to my house?" Lewis asked, attempting to change the subject. "I think Mom's making cookies, and you can maybe show me one more time how to play chess?"

"Okay," Bobby said, with just the slightest hint of a smile. Bobby knew Lewis would never "get" chess, but he understood what Lewis was trying to do, so he went along with him. Besides, who didn't like chocolate chip Christmas cookies?

Lewis's mother and father both had a real fondness for Bobby. The two boys, both the same age, had been friends for years. The Martins knew Bobby's home situation, and had more or less taken him in under their collective wing. And Bobby really liked it at Lewis's house. It was always…cozy. And now the tree was up, the house was all decorated for Christmas and there was that great smell of cookies baking. Lewis and his parents were a real family. Somehow his family didn't seem like a real family anymore.

After homemade cookies, a glass of milk, and one more try at teaching Lewis chess, Bobby reluctantly decided he'd better get home.

Upon arriving home he heard shouting. Going inside, he just barely missed being hit by a flying cup, and Joe and Mom fighting. Joe brushed past him.

"Watch out," he warned Bobby sarcastically. She's crazy again." He was gone out the door, not to return till the next day. It didn't really matter, there was no one to check on him anyway. Or on Bobby either, due to their father's physical absence and their mother's mental absence. Bobby's mother suffered from schizophrenia, a mental illness she'd developed some years back. Joe, who was older, and Bobby, were virtually raising themselves, with little or no adult supervision. And most of the time Joe was gone, not wishing to subject himself any longer than necessary to his mother's crazy and sometimes violent episodes.

"Mom…" Bobby asked tentatively, "Are you okay? Did you take your pills today, Mom?" Her answer was to scream at him and throw another cup, which he managed to duck. He was getting pretty good at ducking things. Bobby ran to his room to wait things out. Luckily, this episode was a rather mild one. Later, he'd try to talk to her again.

A few hours later, Bobby ventured out of his room. His mother was asleep on the couch. Going to the kitchen, Bobby tried to track down his mother's pills. He found them in a cabinet and opened them. Not a one of them had been taken. Bobby took one out, got a glass of water, and went to the living room where he gently woke his mother.

"Here, Mom," he said, handing them to her. She was groggy and took the pill; usually, she refused. She hated the way the pills made her feel.

"Mom, you _gotta_ take these. Everyday," he stressed. Then he helped his mother to her room.

The next morning Bobby woke to a virtual winter wonderland. Snow had fallen gently all night, and was still coming down. He was excited; it _was_ Christmas Eve, and he still had hope.

Going to the kitchen he found his mother, Frances, already at the table drinking coffee.

"Hi, Mom! Merry Christmas Eve!'' Bobby said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Frances looked disapprovingly at Bobby and the coffee, but did nothing to stop her eleven-year-old from drinking it. She realized she was out it often, and during those times Bobby could be doing God knows what. The coffee wasn't so bad.

"Mom…uh…tomorrow's Christmas and—"

"Bobby!" Frances broke in, knowing what he was going to say. "He's not coming back! Honey, I know this is hard, and this year, well…it's going to be a hard Christmas…I tried…Bobby, I tried. I wanted to get you that bike and Joey that Atari…" She looked like she was going to cry.

"It's okay, Mom," Bobby said guiltily. He wanted to cry, too, but he couldn't. He had to be a man; it was his job now to take care of his mom. He didn't need a stupid bike anyway. Or his dad.

"I… I found your pills that were lost," Bobby continued, handing them to her. "You gotta take them, Mom, okay? Please?" That was one of the few things Bobby ever asked for, that his mother take her medicine.

"I'll try, Bobby. I'll try," she promised him.And she _would_ try. She just wouldn't suceed.

The next morning Bobby woke up early, full of expectation, as all children do on Christmas morning. Despite his mother's insistence to the contrary, he still hoped his father would be there. He woke his brother up.

"C'mon, Joe, get up! It's Christmas!"

Joe wasn't as excited as Bobby. He was older, and harbored no expectations of their father being there. If anything, he was hoping he wouldn't be. Their father could be very mean and abusive, or indifferent to them. Someday Bobby would realize that all the beatings with a belt, or worse, weren't "discipline" and his indifference, especially to Bobby, wasn't just "having a lot on his mind." But that would come later. Right now, it was Christmas.

Joe and Bobby went to the living room where their mother, Frances, waited. She seemed "okay" for now, which made things better right from the start.

He tried to push it out of his mind that, for the first time ever, Dad wasn't there. No card. No call. Nothing.

But… the tree was up and decorated, and Bobby could already smell the turkey roasting. And, there were six presents under the tree. They each had bought something small for each other, with the money each had saved in their own particular way.

Bobby watched as his mother opened her present. It was her favorite perfume, Lorigan. He had gotten it for her because he'd recently heard her say she didn't feel "pretty any more." The look in her eyes told him everything.

When Bobby opened his present from his mother, his stared at it for a moment, then at her.

"I hope you like it," Frances said, anxiously. "Maybe next year—"

"I love it Mom!" Bobby said, getting up to hug his mother. She had gotten him two books, one about magic, the other a book on one of his favorite characters, Sherlock Holmes.

So it wasn't such a bad Christmas after all, just the three of them, sharing a few small gifts and a nice Christmas dinner as the snow continued falling gently outside.

Just as they finished their dinner, there was a loud knock on the door. Bobby jumped up to get it…still hoping.

To his surprise, there stood Lewis and his family.

"Hi, Bobby! Merry Christmas!" Lewis said cheerfully.

"Hi…Merry Christmas!" Bobby said to them all. "Mom! Mr. and Mrs. Martin are here!"

Frances Goren and Joe both came to the door, curious. Frances invited them in. "Come in, come in. We were just having dessert."

The Martins entered, bearing gifts, and handed one to a very surprised and grateful Frances and another to her older son, Joe.

Bobby watched, still not sure what was going on.

"Got one for you, too, Bobby!" Lewis chirped, dragging Bobby outside to the front steps. And there, outside on the front lawn, in all its glory, stood the red and silver bike, complete with a big red bow.

Bobby was speechless, unable to believe what he was seeing.

"It's for you, Bobby," Lewis encouraged him, pulling him down the steps. "It's so…maybe…it won't be so bad for you this Christmas…without your Dad. And besides, I got one, too! Who else am I gonna go riding with?"

Bobby knew right then that he had the best Christmas present ever. And it wasn't the new bike. It was something he'd had all along—the lifelong friendship of his best buddy, Lewis.

The end 


End file.
